


You Are Where I Want To Be

by liketogetlost



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 05:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/618619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketogetlost/pseuds/liketogetlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her walk up to his flat is quick and casual, she doesn't want to appear like she has no business being there. Phantom flashbulbs spark in the corners of her eyes but there's no one there. For some reason she has a passing fancy of wishing that there was</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Where I Want To Be

In a sweat, she wakes. Next to a different man from the one who'd been in her dream, his phantom touches still buzzing on her skin, leaving her breathless and burning. In her sleep she wore no rings, and his chocolate hair felt like the tickle of feathers on her thighs.

The clock blazes numbers that say it's past midnight. Laurence snores softly beside her, his bulk taking up most of the bed and she thinks she needs a glass of water.

She glances inside the baby's room before she makes her way downstairs and fills a glass to the brim with ice and Evian.

The phone hangs on the wall past the island, and she sips her water by the light of the refrigerator, staring at the receiver like it knows what she's thinking.

Midnight snacks. Cravings. The muscles in her thighs tighten and she can still feel where he laid his hands, palms warm and fingers long.

She's woken up hungry.

Her throat flexes quickly as she downs the last of her drink and sets down the glass, passing the island and grabbing the phone before she can let herself wake up completely.

"Hello?" His voice, groggy with sleep and scratchy in his throat, hits her at her knees.

"David." She says his name like a fact.

"Billie? What time --"

Her teeth worry her lip and her fingers worry at the waistband of her knickers. "It's late. Are you... Alone?" The combination of her whispering and breathlessness lower her voice into a rough husk.

He pauses, she thinks she hears him lick his lips. "Yes. Is everything alright --"

"Remember that night? After the..." She strokes her hand across her stomach and stops, stops thinking. Her breath is short and coming in pants and Christ, he has to be able to hear it.

She thinks she hears sheets rustling and the sound of air leaving lungs on a sigh before he answers. "As if I'd forget."

Her eyes close and she's almost back in the dream, he's there with her and lean and hard and perfect above her. "I need you." Spoken like a plea, like he's there with her, teasing and taunting her to beg.

He doesn't ask why, or how, or what. "When?" Is his only response. It makes her dizzy.

"Tuesday? I'll be in town." She's fully awake now, whispering so softly she can barely hear herself. Heart beating a million miles per hour, thumb nail caught between her teeth. Fuck bloody Tuesday, she needs him now.

"Yeah, okay." He pauses again, and there's more to say, of course. But it's past midnight and her husband and baby are sleeping upstairs and he knows she has to go slide back into bed and try to get back to sleep so she can play the wife and mother role tomorrow. "Bill?"

The sound of him saying her name makes her even hungrier, makes her wish to sleep til Tuesday. "Yeah?"

"Get yourself off for me, I can tell you need it."

She bites her lip to keep from moaning as her eyes roll toward the ceiling. "Bastard." She breathes, and he chuckles.

"Sleep tight."

She comes with the phone still in her hand, the harsh echo of the dial tone frantic in her ears and in time with the beating of her heart.

\--

Tuesday takes its time.

She picks up the phone to call him to tell him to forget it around twenty times in the three days it takes to arrive, even more often does she decide to just not show up at all. She drops a few dishes, the good china, and Laurence jokes that he knew she never liked that pattern.

At night she tries to sleep with the flutter of wings in her stomach, butterflies that can't find their way out. She's bloody starving.

When she finally gets in her car on Tuesday afternoon, she only realizes she forgot to kiss her husband goodbye once she's four miles away. 

She makes it to town in one piece, her hands shaking around their grip on the steering wheel. Her walk up to his flat is quick and casual, she doesn't want to appear like she has no business being there. Phantom flashbulbs spark in the corners of her eyes but there's no one there. For some reason she has a passing fancy of wishing that there was.

In the elevator, halfway up, she almost gets off at the wrong floor. Her fingers dance over the buttons when she remembers the last time she pressed them, pressed stop and let him press her against the reflective wall. She looks but of course their hand prints are gone, washed off and cleared away.

It's only once she's standing in front of his door does she give a second thought to what she looks like. She'd been too preoccupied with actually getting to this point, she'd forgotten to care about anything else. She eyes herself down and up as far as she can go and wonders what other women wear when they're having, what she's having. About to have. Maybe she should have tarted herself up more, flats and a loose dress that she usually calls "a rag dress" don't really say seductress. She manages to pull her hair out of it's bun before his door opens.

He's looking at her with an amused expression. "Were you gonna knock?"

He's got on some godawful thing with sparkles across the chest, jeans slung low on his hips, holes at the knees, and his feet greet her bare from beneath the ripped legs. His mouth is curved into a grin but his eyes look at her nervously. Hungrily.

She walks in, drops her purse on the floor and wraps her arms around his neck.

Their lips meet and it's been too long, the last time was in front of over a dozen crew members but this time it's just them. The slam of the door behind her masks the sound of her moaning into his mouth, her lips parting enough to let him slide his tongue in and swipe over her own.

She gasps as her back hits the door and his hands fit under her thighs, pulling her legs up around his waist. It's good, hard friction and his mouth is a hot suck on her neck but she pushes against his chest, slides back down to the floor and shakes her head.

"What's -- I thought..." He's breathless, his hair is messed up and his mouth is turned down like a sad little boy and she laughs at him before she grips the hem of her dress and pulls it over her head.

His eyes sweep over her, down her bare chest to the lace of her knickers and she shivers at the darkness in them. 

"Bedroom." She breathes, and he nods, picking her up and wrapping her legs over his hips.

Her teeth play with his earlobe on the way and he stumbles, twice.

He drops her on the bed and she reaches for his zip right away. Their eyes lock and his are full of intent and make her heart skip a beat, make her bite her lip and make her wet, even more so than she'd been in the past three days. One hand slides across his tensing stomach before she grips the waist of his jeans and pants together and tugs them down with one hard yank. Her knickers land on the pile of clothes before he even steps out of them, and he meets her on the bed once she's shimmied up the length of it.

He grips the headboard with one hand and moves between her legs and _yes_. Her legs wrap around his hips as her back arches to meet him, her hands gripping his lean waist and holding on tight as he rocks into her, wasting no time in finding a rhythm they both like, that they both need. It's hard and fast and perfect, and she remembers her dream and laughs out loud at how much better the real thing is.

"What's so funny?" He asks between short pants of breath, grin painting his face. She grinds her hips and he groans, retaliating with a slide of his palm over her chest, a firm bite to the side of her neck. 

His shirt rubs against her chest and she winces, pushing him forward and narrowing her eyes. "Is that Darth Vader?" She laughs again and pushes at the hem. "You're such a fucking geek."

He raises an eyebrow and smiles before pulling the shirt over his head and tossing it aside. He reaches around and grips her by both shoulders before slowing the pace of his hips to a steady slow pull and thrust. "You. Love. It." He punctuates each word with his hips.

" _Fuck_." Her fingers thread and grip into his hair as she works her body beneath his own.

This is what she's been wanting, craving. Waiting for and going mad over, the slick of his stomach on hers, the burr of his voice in her ear, the way he moves on top of her, beneath her, behind her. The way he kisses, like it's the last kiss he'll ever have. The way he smells and the way he tastes. The way he looks at her like he can't believe this is happening.

Tears sting her eyes and she tries to hide them, tries to mask them with a moan as she shuts her eyelids.

"Bill." 

She opens them again and he cups her cheek in his palm.

"I miss you."

She's not sure which of them say it before she flips them over and settles herself on top of him. Her head tosses back and she quickens the pace again, braces her hands on his chest and rides him, going for broke and working for release.

"Christ, Bill." He groans and pushes his fingers into the flesh of her hips, his nails stinging her skin and pulling a gasp from her mouth. He sits up, sliding one hand into her mess of blonde hair and gripping at the strands, kissing her neck, her jaw, her breasts. He brings one nipple into his mouth as the tips of two long fingers find her, and she's enveloped in white hot heat as she comes, hard and long and limbs shaking around him.

He holds onto her waist as his hips rock hard once, twice, one last time before he buries his face in her neck and mumbles through his orgasm. Her chest vibrates with laughter, she forgot how talkative he is when he comes.

He collapses back on the bed, pulling her down against his chest and sliding his hands down her back as they catch their breath.

"God." She breathes against his chest and he smirks.

"You can call me David."

"Fuck off." But she's laughing.

She climbs off of him with a gasp and a shiver before curling into his side and sliding her sweat slicked arm over him. He runs his hand down her back and cups her bum before looking down to kiss her. 

There's a sudden weight on her chest and she's suddenly terrified of ever going home. 

"She's not... I mean, you don't --"

"No plans. Out of town." 

"Right."

The room is quiet save for their steady breathing, and it threatens to swallow her up. Like he can read her mind, he reaches over and grabs the remote from the side table and clicks on the telly. Her eyes cross over his endless channel changing for a while before she snatches it out of his hand and switches it herself. "Oooh, look, Ready Steady Cook!"

She rises and brushes the hair out of her face as he groans. "Hey, just 'cause some people can't slice an orange..."

His hands grab her from behind and she squeals as he yanks her back down and crawls over her. "What?" His eyes are light, lighter than when she first arrived and they make her heart feel heavy.

"Did you say I can't make you come three times in a row using just my tongue?"

Her laughter bubbles up and spills from her in bursts as he kisses his way down her stomach. 

\--

Next time, it's a Thursday.


End file.
